The Children of Lir
by Ddraig Maharishi
Summary: A legend retold through the eyes of Fionnuala, the eldest of the four accursed children of Lir.
1. Chapter One

Of course, I had won the wrestling match.

My brother may have been a boy, but he was still smaller and a year younger than me. But this wrestling match had been friendly. Earlier we had both been hesitant to jump into the lake, and both too prideful to test it tentatively with a naked toe. Tuatha de Denaan though we both may have been, we still did not like to jump directly into cold water. Neither of us could take the chance, so we decided to wrestle on it. Whoever lost would jump into the water first.

"Come on!" I chided, somewhat out of breath as my brother hesitantly walked to the edge of the lake. "You coward!"

Aodh turned to face me, a mixture of pride and fear contorting his childish face, his pale blue eyes wide.

"I am not!" he denied vehemently. I could tell that he wasn't convinced at his own words.

"If you are not a coward," I began, folding my arms and smiling smugly, "then you would have jumped in already."

He paused for a moment, and I could tell that he was trying to find a retort.

"You are as much of a coward as me!" Aodh finally sputtered. "Because you would have jumped in too, if you were not!"

I could not argue with that, and a wide grin broke upon my face.

"Well then, let us be cowards together and jump in the lake at the same time," I said, ending our short verbal spar.

Soon Aodh mirrored my grin.

I struggled with my green dress as I tried to pull it over my head. Once that was accomplished, my dress a heap on the soil, I took my thin gold circlet off, letting my long red hair fall into my face. Then I pulled my shoes off my feet. When I looked up, my brother, too, was completely undressed, his tunic and pants lying in a pile next to his feet. We were but innocent children of six and seven years of age and did not have the qualms of the Christians who were not yet heard of at this time.

Walking to my brother, I reached out to grab his hand and I held it firmly. We both made our way to the edge of the lake and I craned my neck as if to discern how cold the water would be by examining it. Finally, I looked at my brother, my face solemn. He nodded and looked determinedly at the water. We both bent our legs and held our arms forward to get ready to jump.

Then we sprang.

The water wasn't too cold but cold enough to jolt us as we dove through it. I let go of Aodh's hand and made my way to the surface. Soon after I released the air I had been holding in my chest, my brother's head broke the surface, gasping at the coldness of the water.

"Fionnuala!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "It's so cold!"

"Be tough!" I chided. "It's not so bad." Of course, that was a lie, as I was shivering slightly but unnoticeably. But my words became truth as we swam around, the activity warming our bodies. Soon the water was tolerable.

Then we heard a faint rustle in the bushes. My imagination began working actively and I lowered myself farther to the water until only my eyes were above the water. It could have been a boar, which was common around this forest, with its sharp tusks and beady eyes. My father had always warned me that boars liked to eat little children. I took this warning to heart.

Another rustle—closer now—and then a snap of a dry twig.

"Fionnuala?" a deep and familiar voice asked. "Aodh?"

I lifted my head above the water and asked, "Connl?"

Indeed, it was Connl, my father's right-hand man. He made his way out of the bushes and, his green eyes wide and his face pale but his blonde mustache pulled up at the corners in a smile said, "Fionnuala, Aodh, get dressed! You are about to get two new brothers!"

Aodh and I exchanged quick, excited glances before we clambered out of the pool and put our clothes back on, despite our wet bodies. Connl waited patiently, though I could sense tension and excitement about him as well.

Finally Aodh and I set off, our little legs pumping as fast as possible as we made our way towards our home.


	2. Chapter Two

Aodh and I stopped to catch our breath, he bending over with his hands on his knees. Soon after Aodh and I were ready to enter the White Fort, Connl came out of the forest, his barrel chest heaving to draw air into his lungs. I took some pride knowing that, because of his size, he had gone through trouble trying to make his way through the thickly foliaged forest and had come out last. I knew that Connl could beat us in any race on open terrain because he had longer legs than I did and, at that time, I believed that adults couldn't be defeated in anything by children simply because they were adults. At the realization that this was not true, I was indeed surprised, but more proud than anything else. However, this was not a race—my brother and I were, perhaps, more eager to see our new siblings than Connl was.

I decided to tease him anyway.

"Come on, you slug!" I goaded while poor Connl gasped for breath. "We have to see them!"

"Yeah!" Aodh affirmed.

A smile crept across Connl's face.

"They… are not going… to disappear," Connl said in between gulps of air.

"That does not mean that we want to see them any less, Hard-Head," I chided.

"Watch your language!" Connl exclaimed, his smile no less diminished than before. "Speak with respect to your elders!"

I feigned bemusement at my admittedly terrible etiquette and amended my words.

"Forgive me, _Sir_ Hard-Head."

Connl burst out into laughter, soon followed by Aodh and me. All of us knew that I had to be the most polite of any of the residents at the White Fort aside from my mother, but on casual occasions I had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, even at so early an age.  
After our bout of laughter, we walked towards the White Fort, exchanging good-natured insults.

As we entered the Fort, a solemn silence suddenly overwhelmed our happiness, and our retorts died on our tongues. The servants' heads were bowed in sorrow, not in their normal deference.

"What happened?" Aodh asked rather loudly, looking around with caution.

Several heads angrily snapped towards him, glaring at his rudeness.

"Shut your big mouth!" I hissed, elbowing him. Then I looked up at Connl. His smile had faded into a look of puzzlement. He looked at me in return, and then walked to one of the servants, giving a voice to our question in the form of a whisper. After the servant responded, the blood drained from Connl's face and his eyes went wide. He straightened and walked to us.

"We should go," he said somewhat stiffly, his voice burning with an emotion that I couldn't place.

"Why?" Aodh asked.

"Let's just go," Connl growled, astonishing both Aodh and I.

Aodh was about to ask "why?" again when I jammed my elbow into his arm and turned around. Catching the hint, Aodh turned towards the door as well.

"No," a familiar and beloved voice, not Connl's, commanded sternly.

At that, my brother and I turned towards the voice at the same time. A smile sprung to my face as I saw the strong face, red beard, shoulder-length red hair, and green eyes that I had loved ever since I was born. But that smile soon faded as I saw his tear-stained cheeks and sorrowful expression.

My father had been crying.

That realization hit me as if I had run into a great boulder. Boys and men never cried, especially not my father, Lir, the King of the Sea, a son of the Goddess. But there was irrefutable proof etched onto his face. I was rendered speechless.

"They deserve to know," he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

"What happened?" Aodh asked, his voice considerably quieter and more subdued now.

My father opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. It seemed that he could not say what he wanted to tell us.

"Your mother is dead," Connl said to us, pain evident in his voice.

Both Aodh and I could not comprehend that word. 'Dead' meant nothing to us, even though we had been taught what it meant. Sure, we had seen father and Connl come back with dead deer or pheasant for dinner, but we never gave it a second thought. Aodh and I could not possibly imagine our beloved mother like that. There was neither arrow nor sword that could truly kill the Tuatha de Denaan like they did to our meals. And so there were no tears from either Aodh or I when we exchanged doubtful glances.

"Come," my father said as he turned and began walking down the hall.

We followed obediently, both of us subdued, through many halls and down many stairs. Finally we reached an empty, gray room with our mother, lying like a porcelain doll on a bed, her belly still swollen. I walked up to her. Her now delicate and white face was strangely peaceful, her eyes closed. She almost looked asleep. But I could tell that she was not—her body seemed an empty shell of what had been, devoid of all the luster of life that I had known in my mother.

"She's just asleep," Aodh said, more to himself than anyone else. "She will wake up, right? Wake up, mother!" Hysteria began increasing in his voice as he ran over to the body of our mother and began shaking her shoulders.

"Wake up!" he kept repeating, his voice breaking. "Wake up…"

He burst into tears and collapsed onto our mother, having lost what strength he used to shake her shoulders.

My eyes stung with tears of my own. I tried to stay strong, to keep my pride and dignity as a daughter of the King of the Sea, but the tears leaked from my eyes and rolled silently down my cheeks. Then I remembered what was supposed to happen. My eyes widened and my heart pounded, and I swiveled to look at my father.

"What about our brothers?"

My father responded dully, "Fiachra and Conn are alive and well." While this was cause for joy, the death of our mother was enough to overwhelm what joy we may have felt.

"Mother…" I could hear my brother weeping. "Mother…"

Our father walked to me, making ready to guide my brother and me out of the room.

"No!" Aodh screamed. "No! Don't make me leave mother! She needs me!"

Father solemnly picked Aodh up and carried him out of the room, ignoring the blows he received from my hysterical brother. I hesitated before following my father out of the room and back through the hallways and up the stairs.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"You must hurry, Aodh," I insisted, my voice deceptively calm. "Everyone's waiting on you."

"Shut it, Fee!" he growled, fumbling with the clasps of his dress suit. "The less you bother me, the quicker I shall be done!"

It had been four years since our mother's death and our brothers' births. Aodh was now nine years old, and I, ten. We had changed significantly since then; we had become far more mature and knowledgeable for our age. The wound to our hearts had healed, but we were yet familiar with the gap that remained. And now, father was remarrying. Aodh was not in the best of moods, owing to his intricate suit when he would have much preferred to wear a simple tunic and pants.

"It's not as bad as you think," I said. In fact, it was the opposite. He truly looked the part of a prince in that suit.

"Yes it is," he mumbled, finally finishing the last clasp. "It makes me look silly."  
I decided not to argue with him on the matter, but merely walked out the door to the outside. Aodh soon followed.

There we found the two red-haired twins, Fiachra and Conn, in finery, ready to come inside and get us. They were both just barely out of infancy, and already they were the best of friends. The twins did everything together, most of their deeds getting them into trouble. I smiled at them and nodded my head towards the chariot and the waiting driver, Connl. All of us walked towards the chariot with elegance.

Upon seeing us, Connl couldn't help but bark with laughter and said, "Save it for when we get there."

Excused from being formal, the twins began running to the chariot, entering it with identical expressions of excitement plastered all over their faces. Aodh and I walked faster, but did not run. Should we trip, our finery would become grass-stained, and it was not acceptable at weddings. Finally we entered the chariot. Connl pulled the back of the chariot up and fastened it securely to prevent any of us falling out.

"Hang on tight," Connl warned with a grin as he grasped the reins. "We're going to go fast."

Our horse, a bay stallion, snorted and started off, pulling the chariot with ease. The landscape seemed to pass us in a blur. Fiachra made to reach out and attempt to grab something, put I pulled his arm back, knowing that his arm could have been torn off.  
The rest of the ride was somewhat uneventful, and though we were moving quickly, it seemed to take forever. Finally I saw the castle approaching, growing larger and larger as we got closer. As we reached the gates, it loomed over us, a giant fortress. We were met by guards who let us in, and stable-hands took our lathered horse and unfastened the back of the chariot.

Fiachra and Conn nearly toppled over each other to get out, eager to get to the wedding. Aodh and I walked out side-by-side as elegantly as we could, feeling self-conscious. We glanced at each other for reassurance, and then walked after the twins. Connl soon followed us.

"This'll be exciting, eh?" he asked us, a grin stretched across his face.  
Aodh and I remained silent, our apprehensiveness now making itself evident. Connl chuckled in amusement at our nervousness.

"Alright, alright," he said, still smiling. "I understand. I will shut my mouth and leave you be."

Connl did indeed stay silent for the rest of the walk. Truthfully, I liked it when he talked to us—it kept me distracted from my pounding heart. I could not find the words to protest his silence, so I, too, stayed silent.

Trying to find other means of distraction, I listened to Fiachra and Conn chatter and trade good-natured insults. They were more excited than nervous, it seemed—polar opposites of Aodh and I. I envied them, and felt, somehow, that Aodh did too.

We soon entered the room that would prepare us for the wedding which would be held at the edge of a cliff overlooking beautiful green plains. We were to stand by our father to welcome his soon-to-be wife, Aoife. The twins would be on the right side of our father and Aodh and I would be on the left. We were all given a line to recite when the druid said a certain line. Everything I did was autonomous, my mind wandering to what would happen at the actual wedding. Finally, after much frustration, waiting, and anticipation the wedding began.

Father walked to the edge of the cliff first, standing in front of the druid that would bind him to Aoife forever as her husband. He looked very regal in his outfit—his robes the colors of the sea, embroidered with tiny depictions of white horses. His trimmed red beard and hair had been neatly combed and blazed red against his blue-and-green outfit, his dark eyes twinkling with happiness. There was no doubt in my mind that he truly loved Aoife.

Everyone's eyes suddenly turned to the pathway created by the guests of the party avoiding that one particular path for the sake of the groom and the bride. As I followed everyone's gaze, I saw her, walking gracefully through the isle.

Aoife was dressed in white finery, with a circlet of beautiful flowers atop her head like a crown. A white veil trailed from the circlet like hair, pulled back from her beautiful face. Her pale blue eyes twinkled with happiness not unlike my father's. Aoife's dress was almost pure white, the edge of the sleeves trailing nearly to the ground. My eyes fell to the hem of the dress, onto which was embroidered four large depictions of swans; their bead-eyes seemed full of sorrow. My eyes lingered upon the swans for a moment as they seemed significant to me somehow, though I could not explain it. As an uneasy feeling gripped my stomach, I forced myself to look at her smiling face. I immediately felt better.  
She finally stood before my father, looking up into his eyes as the druid droned on in prayer. I could tell that they were both barely aware of the world around them, that the only ones privileged to be in this private world were Aodh, Fiachra, Conn, and I.

The rest of the prayers proved to be boring for the twins, both of them restlessly fiddling with their hands and then each other's hands, desperately trying to find something to do. Aodh and I remained still, both of us determined to remain regal as we should be.

Finally the prayers ended with Father and Aoife kissing each other, and the party began. There were no other children like us at the wedding, so all of us remained together. When night fell, many of the adults began acting silly and unusually sloppy, a mystery to Aodh, Fiachra, Conn and I. Connl, the only one who acted as he normally did, took us back home and left us with a caretaker, explaining that it was his honor to remain at the party for as long as it took.

It was three days and two nights before Father, Aoife, and Connl returned home, still in their wedding apparel, all in high spirits. Fiachra and Conn ran out to greet them while Aodh and I hung back in front of the door to our home, waiting for the adults to come to us.

"That was a wonderful wedding, was it not, Fee?" Aoife said as she approached me, sweeping me in a great hug. "It was a good experience for you, as you too will get married one day." She smiled and gently tapped her finger on my nose.

"I doubt it," I quipped, smiling to let her know that I was joking.

"I wouldn't be too sure," Aoife joked and warned at the same time.

After Father and Connl hugged me and more jokes were traded, we turned to enter the fort for breakfast.

Again, my eyes strayed to the swans embroidered on Aoife's wedding dress and again, the uneasy feeling came over me, a feeling I would later identify as foreboding.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Her blue eyes turned to me, burning me intensely—only now did I dread looking at those eyes even though I have seen them for nearly every hour of my life for six years. I could see a sword in her pupils, the sword shining silver and swinging to hit something. That something was a person. That person was me. But before the sword hit me it shattered into the blackness of her pupil. Finally I saw her whole face, a sweet face contorted in anger and hatred twisting and twisting before it was barely recognizable as a face.

Suddenly, it was a flood of water. I hardly noticed because the transformation had been so eventual and natural. I did not even remember it ever being her face. The water lapped at my feet, and my gaze turned to them. They were human but webbed together. Quickly rising, I knew I had to get out of there. But my feet were stuck to the ground. Then I saw other pairs of feet and only then had I realized that my left arm was protectively on Fiachra's shoulders and my right on Conn's. Aodh stood before me, looking into my eyes, his own eyes fearful and yet ready for the task ahead. I somehow knew that their feet were stuck too.

The water rose and rose, and we, unable to stop it, were beginning to drown. Then, as if granting us a reprieve, the water swelled back. But that reprieve was short-lived as the water gathered and swelled in height, curving into a wave that would strike us and undoubtedly kill us. And suddenly, she, giant-sized, towered over us, still made of water, casting a long shadow, holding a wand, laughing. Her laugh became more and more hysterical and then deeper and ringing.

All of us tried to run, Fiachra still under my left arm and Conn still under my right and Aodh still before me, though his back was to me this time. Our feet were still stuck. We tugged and tugged at our feet until they detached themselves from our ankles. Uncaring, we all ran as fast as we could on the stumps of our ankles, I looking down and suddenly seeing feet again. Eventually and so naturally that once again I did not realize that it had been something else before, we heard bells tolling. First they were rich, high bells full of joy, and then they were deep, sorrowful bells placing sadness in my heart as if someone had died.

Then the wave crashed over us, stopping our running, I closing my eyes. But none of us had drowned. Instead, a trickle of water splashed my forehead and I heard chanting, a familiar voice though I had never heard it in my life, deep and reverent. I opened my eyes and found that I was surrounded by earth, unable to shout for help. Then a profound peace overwhelmed me, and I no longer wanted to shout. I slowly started falling asleep as I looked at Fiachra at my left side, Conn at my right, and Aodh before me, their eyes closed and their faces peaceful.

I jolted upright, gasping audibly, blinded for a moment by cold sweat stinging my eyes. It was still dark, but purple and blue spilled over the horizon as I looked to the window. Slowly, I calmed my breathing and remembered where I was. My bed sheets were drenched and cold with sweat, and I knew that if I were to go back to sleep, I would have to change the sheets, and it would be well before morning once I finished. I threw the covers off and set my feet on the ground.

"Fee, what's the matter?" I heard a voice murmur sleepily next to my shoulder. I, my nerves still on edge, started and turned around, breathing quickly again. "Hey! Hey!" the voice hissed. "Relax!"

I made out the vague outline of my brother's face, felt the bed depress, and relaxed. He had sat next to me.

"Sorry," I muttered, turning to stare at the floor. "It was a nightmare."

"A nightmare indeed!" Aodh whispered. "Blast you, Fee! Your nightmares must be ghastly!"

I turned to him again and whispered dumbly, "Huh?"

"You all but screamed in your sleep," he whispered back. "Then you started mumbling something about large white birds."

"Oh," was all I offered to him. To tell the truth, I didn't see what white birds had to do with my nightmare. I stared at the floor again.

"Is something the matter, Fee?" Aodh asked after a few moments of silence passed. I noticed that his voice was more subdued now.

"No," I answered somewhat absently. My dream was so vivid and seemed so real though, as I looked back on it, my dream was strangely surreal. It was disturbing, and it awakened something inside of me that seemed to be wary and all-watching. I continued to stare at the floor and mull my dream over while Aodh waited patiently next to me.  
I barely noticed light filling and changing the room as the morning progressed until Aodh tapped me on the shoulder.

"Come," he murmured. "Breakfast is ready."

All of the sudden, the world came back to me with a vengeance. The rich smell of venison drifted into my nose and I became aware of how hungry I was. I realized that I must have been staring at the wall for nearly two hours. And I hadn't yet sorted out my haunting dream.

Without a word, I rose and followed Aodh down the stairs to the common room and then into the kitchen. As I entered, my eyes gazed across the room at everyone sitting at the table.

"Glad you could join us, Fionnuala," my father said with a wide grin. "When I woke up this morning I was a bit worried that my daughter had eaten the fruit of the sidhe!"

I smiled back at him but offered no response. He raised one eyebrow and his smile faded but said nothing else. I looked at Fiachra and Conn who were sitting next to my father, fidgeting impatiently with each other. They had grown quite a bit since my father was wed to Aoife six years ago. Their baby fat had shrunk quite a bit and they were skinny and active young boys. Their dark amber hair was now clean and brushed back, but I knew that, if given a chance, it would soon become covered in dirt and leaves like the rest of their body.

"We have been waitin' forever for you!" Fiachra protested.

"Yeah!" Conn exclaimed. "We are hungry! Hurry and get yourself seated!"

I smiled at them as well and did not respond, instead taking my seat next to my father. Aodh sat beside me. As we sat, Fiachra and Conn began digging into their meal. I glanced at him briefly—he had grown as well, almost a young man. All of his baby fat was gone and his body was muscled like a wild cat's. His hair hung in front of half of his face, giving him an air of mysteriousness. What could be seen of his face were a strong jaw and a single dark blue eye. Already, the servant girls at King Bodb's castle were whispering excitedly to each other whenever he passed them by. I gave a half-smile to Aodh. He had not a lover yet, but as soon as he got one I would tease him to death by telling his lover stories of when he was young and foolish.

I looked to the empty chair on the other side of the table. My smile faded.

I turned to my father and said softly, "She will not join us today?"

He responded grimly, "It seems not. She still claims to be sick."

I wasn't too disappointed that Aoife didn't join us. She had locked herself in her room last year and had not come out since—shortly before that, she would yell and punish my brothers and I, mostly without the slightest provocation. I had learned to

"Have the druids found out what was the matter with her?" I asked.

"No," my father said. "There nothing wrong in her body. The druids think it to be her mind as the cause of her illness and that is not their realm."

Before I could respond, light footsteps entered my hearing. I looked to the hallway that led to where we sat now. I was paralyzed as I looked into her shocking blue eyes, no longer filled with the warmness I had known until lately. Fiachra and Conn immediately stopped eating and sat up straight. I could feel Aodh tense, almost as if he was ready to spring. Aoife had turned the corner and walked with a stately grace to the dining table.

The year spent in her room had not been kind to her. Her face was drawn and her cheeks hollowed out—her eyes were sunken in slightly and she was a sickly pale. The robes she wore seemed to mock her appearance now, for those robes were the robes she would wear on frequent picnics with my brothers and I when I was ten years old. She had looked healthy and beautiful then. Now she looked fragile and hollow.

"I thought I would join my family for breakfast now that I am well," she said, her voice raspy and full of bitterness.

"Come, sit," my father said with a smile. "Let us dine in celebration of your convalescence."

Aoife smiled a thin smile and took her seat at the foot of the table. Her gaze then turned to me, chilling me to the bone.

"I thought I might have a picnic with you and your brothers today in King Bodb's castle, Fionnuala," she said. "It has been a while since I have last been out in the sun."  
Her words sent shivers up my spine and alarms went off in my mind. But to refuse would most likely upset my father.

"It will be good for us all," I replied, my voice strained.

She smiled. "Good. By midday, gather up your brothers and meet me by the stables."

The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence.

Midday came faster than I would have liked it to. Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn walked beside me in silence at first as we made our way to the stable.

When we were halfway there, he whispered, "Why are you following through with this?"

"I have to," I said grimly. "Besides, we are going to King Bodb's castle. He would not let Aoife harm us while we are there."

"I don't like this, Fee," Fiachra said.

"I don't like it at all," Conn affirmed.

"Neither do I," I told them. "But we don't have much choice."

After that we walked to the stables in silence. When we reached them, Aoife was waiting with a chariot and a driver ready.

"It is a beautiful day for a picnic, is it not?" she asked, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

"Indeed," I responded.

She entered the chariot and beckoned, "Let us set off."

With dread, I walked onto the chariot along with my brothers.

I would later come to regret my decision.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The scenery sped by at an alarming rate and the chariot bumped and rocked. We were going faster than we would have if we were to have a picnic. My brothers and I looked at each other with apprehension—even Fiachra and Conn showed no excitement towards the picnic. We couldn't help the foreboding feeling that sat in the pit of our stomachs. Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence, I decided to speak up.

"May we please go back to the fort? My brothers and I would like to include father as well," I requested. I knew that we would be safer with father around us.

Aoife turned to me and her hungry gaze sent shivers up my spine. "We are almost there," she said, her voice too sweet. "We do not want to tire our poor horse more than is necessary, do we?"

"We do not need to go as fast as we are going," I retorted. "The horse is already tired!"

"Why, Fionnuala," she said, exaggerating the hurt expression upon her face. "Yelling is unbecoming of a lady." Fiachra and Conn exchanged a doubtful look. After all, Aoife had no qualms about yelling at us for the past two years.

"Unbecoming or not," Aodh interceded, "she does have a point. The horse was bred for dragging heavy objects, not running in a race."

"As you wish, young master," Aoife complied, a predatory smile dominating her face. She turned to the driver and ordered him to slow the chariot. He slowed it to a stop.

"How about we take a rest? We have been traveling very far," Aoife suggested. "There is a lake nearby to bathe in—Loch Dairbhreach."

"I think we can manage another few miles," Aodh commented coldly.

"Oh, but you must remember that it has been a while since I last went anywhere and I must rest as well," Aoife said, exiting the chariot, her tone sickeningly sweet but forceful at the same time. "Besides, you must be presentable to King Bodb Dearg."  
I turned to the driver.

"Driver, take us back to the fort," I commanded.

"I cannot, milady," he said apologetically. "The horse is far too tired to pull this chariot and must rest for a while."

"I am hurt that you would try to ruin my careful plans for a picnic," Aoife said, dramatically placing the back of her hand to her forehead. "I have made a great effort to be with you despite my sickness. The least you could do is follow my bidding."

I narrowed my eyes. She was trying to make us feel guilty until we did exactly what she said. But we weren't given much choice other than walking down a path where boars and other wild creatures awaited us. So I stepped out of the chariot, soon followed by Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn. We followed Aoife to the Loch Dairbhreach.

"Why are we following her, Fionnuala?" Aodh whispered.

"Because otherwise we would spend days trying to get home by foot in a forest full of savage animals that would see the four of us as an easy meal," I reasoned.

"I would rather chance those wild beasts than that witch," Aodh growled, nodding his head to Aoife ahead of us.

"I do not like this, Fee," Conn whimpered.

"Not at all," Fiachra agreed.

"If she tries something, there's four of us and only one of her," I retorted. "And we can wait for the horse to rest and take it home."

"What was that, children?" Aoife asked mockingly. At that, we fell silent.

Finally, we reached the lake. It was surrounded by tall and imposing oak trees, and I couldn't help but feel trapped.

My brothers and I began to undress, our clothes forming a heap a few paces from the lake. I walked to the lake's edge—it seemed to mock the situation as it stayed calm, blue, and inviting. I dove in and my brothers did likewise.

The water was refreshingly cold and as my head broke the surface, I was slightly more relaxed. But the foreboding still hung in my stomach, as heavy as a rock and as cold as ice. One-by-one, my brothers' heads appeared above the surface of the water. I could see that they enjoyed the water as well, but their eyes were still haunted as I imagine my eyes seemed at the time. We swam around in the water a little more, washing the grime and sweat from our bodies.

After a long stretch of peace, I began to wonder if we truly were being too paranoid and felt a pang of guilt pierce my stomach. The way we acted was not fair to Aoife or our father. I looked to Aodh for support and though his face was calm, his eyes betrayed a torrent of contradicting emotions. The twins, of course, were playfully swimming and splashing in the water, forgetting the dark feelings that were around and within them. I almost envied them.

Then my heart leaped in terror as the dream entered the front of my mind, as vividly as it had been when I first dreamed it. All my doubts of Aoife's strange behavior shattered like the sword in my dream. Then I remembered that Aoife had been watching us by the lake and I did not remember her even so much as stick her feet into the water. I turned to where I last saw her. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat.  
Her expression was a parody of a grin like a witch triumphantly inspecting her brew, her eyes glittering with eagerness. Her body was tense and in her soft hands was a long, silvery sword, glittering with sunlight.

Soon, I heard two collective gasps and water parting from a body as it moved towards me. My brothers had followed my gaze and now Aodh was grimly making his way beside me, ready to protect me though he was naked and vulnerable.

"That is right, Fee," Aoife said mockingly. "You should have stayed with your father today."

I did not dignify her with a response, but merely held her gaze, my surprise now pushed from me by solemnity.

"_Dar!_" Aodh called, referring to the chariot driver.

Aoife laughed and mimicked Aodh cruelly. "Do you think that I would not have enough forethought to get rid of that idiot? He is well on his way to the White Fort with tales of your treachery.

"But you knew it all along, did you not?" she spat. "And yet you followed me, and brought your brothers with you to share your fate."

The words stung me, but I kept a straight face, knowing that she was trying to stall, to wait and taunt until one of us moved against her so she may concoct a lie to present to our father and Bodb Dearg, for she was no fighter. I also noticed that she did not move forward. Aodh was now by my side. I did not tear my gaze from Aoife's hungry blue eyes, but instead swam forward towards the shore, towards she who held the sword threateningly in her hands.

"Oh?" she asked with her sickly sweet voice. "You would come towards me? What could you, not so much as clad in clothing, to do me, who holds a sword?"

Aoife began stalking straight towards me as I reached the inner edge of the shore, my footing now sure at the bottom of the edge of the lake. Aodh hesitated before following me, soon coming beside me. Fiachra and Conn hung back, unsure of what to do, more frightened than they had ever been before.

After what seemed like hours of tension and silence, I was within reach of Aoife's sword. My gaze pierced hers, my resolve cold and strong.

"Go ahead," I dared her, feeling Aodh pause in shock behind me.

She defiantly held my gaze and lifted her sword. But I noticed that her hands were trembling and her surety was fading. Finally, I heard the heavy thud of metal on dirt. Aoife had dropped her sword.

I was surprised at myself as I found myself almost disgusted, but mostly amused. Aoife was nothing more than a jealous woman, and her cowardice finally betrayed her.

"Come, Fiachra and Conn," I beckoned without turning, shaking my head at the pathetic being still defiantly standing before us. I knew they obeyed as I heard the water parting again. I began walking towards the very end of the lake, the water lapping around my calves. Aodh, too, followed me, truly astonished but proud of his sister. Aoife made no move to stop us.

But, just as I was about to step out of the lake, rage and humiliation had worked its way through Aoife's core. She pulled out a long, slender wand of yew and pointed it at me, shouting an ancient word of the Tuatha De Denaan. Invisible and powerful energy coursed through the wand and erupted from the tip, rushing and surrounding my brothers and myself.

The breath was stolen from my chest and my ears rang. White-hotness filled my vision and, try as I might, I could see nothing else. Suddenly, agony ripped through my body, my arms and legs breaking and reshaping, my skin stretching beyond its limits and tearing away. The agony seemed to last forever, to fold and unfold me seemingly endless times. Finally the pain subsided and my vision and hearing returned to me. I blinked my bleary eyes.

Aoife towered above me, triumphantly. I turned to my brother and found that I could not twist my body as I once had. Instead I twisted my neck to face Aodh and I saw a horrifying sight.

Where Aodh had once been was now a large, beautiful and pristine swan. It opened its beak and asked with Aodh's voice, "Fionnuala?"

I dared not answer. Instead, I turned to Fiachra and Conn. There were smaller swans in their place. "Fiachra?" I called to them. "Conn?"

"Fee?" they responded in unison, both swans opening their beaks.

Then I turned to the water before me, and there, staring back at me, was the reflection of a swan. I, horrified, looked up at Aoife.

She cackled, deep and low at first, but quickly ascending into hysterical, high-pitched laughter that reminded me of a witch's.

We were doomed.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

A flurry of rage, despondency, and amazement whirled in my heart. I could not believe it. And yet, something told me that I had seen it coming all along. Again the dream made itself known very vividly, and this time Aoife's cackling was so very real. Again, I remembered the four swans embroidered on Aoife's wedding dress that had set off alarms in my mind. But there was hope for us yet, for King Bodb Dearg was far more skilled in druidic transformation magic than Aoife.

I uneasily began flapping my wings and I soon rose from the water. Aoife noticed me attempting to fly, but merely laughed more.

After she had her time of mirth, she pointed her wand at the water and she spoke more ancient words and then declared, "The bounds I set for your enchantment are this: till the Woman of the South and the Man of the North come together, it will be out of your power and your friends' power to change you to you normal form. Throughout the length of your lives, you must spend three hundred years at this very lake, Lake Dairbhreach, three hundred on Sruth na Maoile between Ireland and Alban, and three hundred years at Irrus Domnann and Inis Gluaire."

At that, my wings felt heavy—so very heavy—and I dropped to the water with a splash and in my struggle to stay aloft, my wings became tangled. I thrashed in the water for a couple of moments and finally untangled myself as I floated to the surface.  
Aoife seemed very amused by the display as she was cackling again.

"You may keep your own speech—and you will be singing sweet music of the Sidhe. Your voices would put the men of the earth to sleep, and there will be no music in the world equal to it. Your own sense and your own precious nobility will stay with you. Now get out of my sight, children of Lir!" she spat.

Grief weighed heavily on my heart as Aoife spun on her heels and strode victoriously towards the chariot that awaited her. As she left, I turned to Aodh, my swan eyes burning with tears that I could not shed. Fiachra and Conn slowly made their way towards me, their swan faces unable to express emotion.

"Fee?" Fiachra asked. "Are we ever going to get to go home?"

The question struck my heart like an arrow. I opened my mouth—my beak—to answer, but I could not manage to give my words sound.

"This is our home now," Aodh responded as if reading my thoughts. "For three hundred years."

"Three hundred years?" Conn moaned. "That's a long time!"

"I know," Aodh whispered softly.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. After all, what could we say? This event, this tragedy of the children of Lir, was almost like a nightmare and we felt as if we were going to wake up beside our father again. My grief was overwhelming me as my swan eyes were not able to cry. It was building up within my heart and my throat, suffocating me, demanding to be released. Finally, despite my struggles to swallow it down, my grief burst from my throat in a long, sustained wail. Strangely, the wail gracefully and delicately carried on the wind, the despair making it mirror a bean sidhe's own wail. Aoife had, indeed, given us the voices of the Hidden Folk.

The rawness of my initial wail had passed and my grief played on my throat, contracting it and expanding it to create a vocal ballad with no words.

It did not take my brothers long to join me in my song of loss and grief, our emotions playing out on these songs and rubbing our voices raw. One-by-one we fell asleep, the haunting melody we had created still playing within our dreams. From then on, instead of crying, we would sing.

It had been a fortnight since we had been changed into swans. The chill air bit at me through my feathers and hunger gripped at my stomach as I awoke. As my eyes opened, I saw Aodh floating gently before me, Fiachra to my right, and Conn to my left. All were shivering. I gathered them towards me and placed my right wing over Fiachra, my left wing over Conn and my breast over Aodh. I took some comfort in their steady breathing and their collective warmth. After a while, each of them stopped shivering. This was how it was every morning.

I held them under my feathers for what felt like too short a time. As each of them awoke, they pulled away from under my feathers and dove to retrieve some fish to sate their hunger. I knew that, if I were to survive, I should follow them, but the hunger that plagued at my stomach was far from inviting. This was how it was every morning.  
Diving into the cold water made me feel more alert, and I could see the fish frantically swimming away from me. I snapped up a fish that inadvertently wriggled into the path of my open beak. As I changed my path and paddled towards the surface, I felt the fish desperately thrashing in my beak, trying to break free. I swallowed the fish as soon as I broke the surface of the water and could breathe again. This was how it was every morning.

"This is how it will be every day for three hundred years," that thought pierced my mind, weighing my heart with dread and sorrow again. I stared at the lake's surface, gliding mournfully across it.

"Fionnuala," Aodh said, interrupting my reverie, making his way towards me. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

I suddenly realized that the sun was past its zenith. I had been staring at the water for hours. It did not matter to me.

"Of course," I replied simply and dully.

"Please cheer up, Fionnuala," Fiachra piped in, gliding up by my side.

"Please?" Conn begged, paddling to my other side. "It is not so bad."

"We need you," Aodh said. "You cannot be there for us if you are miserable all day."

I looked into each of my brothers' eyes and then knew that I was being selfish. All I could think about all day was my own grief when my brothers were going through the same grief and needed me to be happy, strong, and loving for them. I tried to smile, but my beak was unmoving. Finding that I could not smile (and feeling slightly relieved about that), I gave a quick nod.

"You are right," I said.

A long silence followed my simple words, a silence in which a lot was said, in which my brothers and I stared at each other, sending messages without sound. Then, I heard a sound in the distance. I turned my head to face the opening of the clearing and began paddling towards it. The sound was becoming louder and louder as if it was coming closer. It was familiar, and my heart rose in hope.

"Aodh! Fiachra! Conn!" I called to my brothers. "It is a troop of horses bearing riders! It could be father! He might be looking for us!"

My brothers made their way by my side and began craning their heads in an imitation of mine, listening to the growing commotion. Soon it was near us and my heart beat wildly in my swan breast.

"Hail!" I called out as the noise got the loudest. "Hail!" I could hear the wheels crunching on the gravel and the horses protesting, their hooves clomping in confused intervals. I gasped in excitement.

I had been heard!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Excitement boiled within my breast as I heard distant but familiar voices deliberating and the eventual crunches of their footsteps upon the shrubbery. I thought that Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn must have felt the same way I did, as the twins began shouting as well.

"Here by Lake Dairbhreach!" Fiachra and Conn announced in unison.

"Who is it whose familiar voices call us?" The deep-timbered response was heartening. A body made its way out of the bush and upon the shore of the lake, followed by another.

I, barely daring to believe they existed, looked at the two men, scanning them from toe to head and back down again. My breath caught in my throat, refusing to break free in the exclamation I longed to shout. Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn were silent as well. I imagine they were in much the same situation as I.

For there, standing on the shore, was our father and Connl. They walked closer, edging their way towards the lake, looking carefully around. This puzzled my brothers and me, for we were right in front of them. Surely Aoife had not made us invisible as well?

"There is no one here," Father whispered, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"Aye, but four swans," Connl lamented. "Perhaps we were hearing things."

My heart slid to my stomach as they turned to leave, my throat yet too tight to speak. In desperation I flapped my wings and opened my beak in an attempt to force the words from my traitor throat.

Finally one word wriggled through my closed throat, bursting from my mouth with such power that it echoed across the lake.

"Father!"

Father and Connl both swiveled around, their eyes wide and darting from side to side as they searched the area for us. When they saw no one, those sorrowful eyes settled on us.

"Why is it that these swans have the voice of living people?" Father asked, more to Connl than to us, unsure of if he was hearing things.

I glided forward while my brothers stayed back, still shocked. My words came easier to me now; my throat was no longer against me. No longer was my heart beating wildly in fear that they were going to leave, though the bad taste in my beak remained. Nonetheless, I had their attention, so I decided to choose my words carefully.

"I shall tell you why," I said. Both Father and Connl stared at me through surprised eyes. "We are your four children, now the result of your wife's jealousy."

"It is true!" Fiachra exclaimed.

"She changed us!" Conn added.

Father looked disbelievingly at us for a moment, his mouth moving but his words refusing to come out. Connl remained silent, his face set and grim as if he had expected such a thing from Aoife. But I could see his eyes twinkling with what seemed like sorrow.

"Oh, my children!" The anguished words were a mere whisper on his lips, grating against his lungs. He made his way towards us half-stumbling as though his legs had lost their strength. I moved forward, my feet seeming to paddle on their own accord. The subtle ripples in the water that swelled underneath me told me that my brothers were doing the same. Finally, as each of us reached the shore, Father fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around each of us in a giant embrace, his shoulders convulsing with sobs, his face buried in our feathers. But there seemed too few of us—indeed, I only saw the two smaller swans, Fiachra and Conn. I dismissed the thought. Connl slowly made his way to us, his face now softer than before, tears silently tracing paths down his oft-merry cheeks. He stayed back, however, respecting Father.

"Oh, my children," he repeated, his voice barely audible, a mix of relief and regret spilling through those three simple words.

He held to us tightly for a long while, as if, should he let go, we would drift away from him forever. My brothers and I remained still, taking solace in the security of Father's arms. Eventually he let go, and looked at us with red eyes, his brows turned up in what seemed a beseeching look.

"I sense the magic that is upon you all," he began slowly. "It is a strong magic—on this lake as well. You say that Aoife performed this deed?"

"Yes," I confirmed softly.

Father's expression changed to that of resignation, and his pain was reflected in his eyes. But his face was quick to turn steely, determined.

"Then she must be punished for her evil," he concluded. "And the curse must be removed. King Bodb Dearg is much more powerful than Aoife." He turned to leave, motioning for Connl to follow him.

"No, father," I said, sorrow weighing heavily upon my heart again. "There is no way to change us back."

Those words must have hit him like an arrow for he stopped so suddenly in his tracks, his shoulders stiff.

Finally silent Aodh spoke.

"For nine hundred years did Aoife bind us to remain this way," he began softly. "Three hundred are we to spend in this Lake Dairbhreach. And for what reason? What wrong have we done against Aoife? I should have known before that this is what happens when mighty Lir chooses yet another wife to be by his side. This is what happens when the just Lir finds another woman to share his bed. This is what happens when the valiant Lir replaces his late wife, the mother of his children, with the first beauty he lays eyes upon! She turns out to be a jealous witch!" As his sarcastic speech gained momentum, his voice grew louder and angrier. "And what does this magnificent Lir do? What else but turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to his children? Has he ever wondered why would they agree to such a union, to such a woman? For they saw what was coming far before the wise Lir!

"Only when the loss is his does he open his eyes! Or perhaps the loss is not his—perhaps he only came because of constant urgings of his loyal friend Connl, or the complaints of his servants, or to preserve his image as a loving father. What a shame that lowly servants love children more than their father does!"

With the end of his rant came a heavy, shocked silence. My eyes were locked on Aodh, wide with astonishment. My beak hung slack as if I had tried to say something in the middle of his speech but found no words. For years I, perhaps the closest person to him, had not known he felt so angry about father remarrying—he had hidden it so well. It hurt me that Aodh did not tell me this, did not trust me with his secrets.  
Father broke the silence, speaking softly.

"I am sorry that you feel as such." I could hear the pain in his voice. "I am sorry that you have felt this way for years and years. Most of all, I am sorry that I have disappointed my children."

"Disappointed? Disappointed?" Aodh nearly shrieked. "You use such words as to make this situation seem minor! Yet look at your children before you; deformed until nine-hundred years have passed! Torn from their home for nearly a millennium!

"And what does all-knowing Lir do? Apologize? Saying sorry does not break this curse placed upon us! Saying sorry does not heal all of our hurts away! Your words are empty, Lir!"

"You are right, my son," Father replied, his voice still soft. "If words could solve all our problems, then the world would be a happier place. But what would you have me do? Even the Dannan herself cannot change the past."

Aodh was silent, realizing that Father was right. After Father was sure that Aodh would remain so, he continued.

"You speak so many truths, Aodh. Indeed, I was blind to Aoife's jealousy and your own feelings. But nothing can change what happened. What could have happened is not what did happen, however much we may want it to be.

"However, know this; I loved your mother very much. Her death devastated me, partially because I loved her and the other part because I knew that you all still needed a mother.

"When King Bodb presented Aoife to me, I talked with her quite a bit. She was delighted at the thought of being your stepmother. Her only worry was if you and your brothers and sister would accept her. Aoife seemed to love you as dearly and as genuinely as she would her own children. I do not know what caused her change of heart, but I see now that she is not the one I married anymore. I am sorry that I did not see it sooner. If I could go back and change how things happened, I would, without a second thought.

"But never have a doubt in your mind, son, that I love you and your brothers and sister with all my heart and nothing could change that—not the wiles of a woman nor my own pride. I will do everything in my power to help you in any way I can, but I know that your natural forms cannot be restored. I only hope that you, Fionnuala, Fiachra, and Conn will forgive me though I do not deserve it." Father's voice broke and a single tear ran down his cheek.

Aodh turned his head away and stared petulantly at the water. I could see the sadness shining in his tearless eyes and I could almost feel the sorrow gathering in his throat. As confirmation of my observations, Aodh swallowed.

"I will go to King Bodb and see what can be done about Aoife," Father said after a long while. I nodded silently in confirmation.

As he turned to leave, Aodh spoke again.

"Father," he nearly whispered, his voice breaking. "Stay with us."

Father stopped and turned slowly. Connl looked at Father and Father motioned for Connl to go with a wave of his hand.

"Someone needs to inform the King right away of what has transpired," Father explained. Connl nodded dutifully and disappeared through the hedges, a sad smile on his face as he bid us goodbye.

Aodh slowly made his way to the shore and Father sat where he was. Slowly Aodh looked up into Father's eyes.

"I forgive you," he said.

I looked to Fiachra and Conn. Both of them had stayed solemnly silent. Neither had known their mother and did not understand what Aodh was yelling about.

"Come, Fiachra and Conn," I beckoned them, lifting up my wings. They obeyed and I placed my wings upon them and we all paddled closer to Aodh. He looked at us, his gaze sure but still sorrowful. Father looked at us too and smiled wanly.

Though we could not be changed back to our natural forms, the heavy weight fell from my heart. If we could not lead a normal life, at least Father was here to help us live it. Aodh nodded gently as if reading my mind.

Perhaps we could yet find happiness within our lives.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The beckoning feeling was at its strongest now, nearly tugging me away from the lake, making me feel so light that the slightest breeze would lift me up and carry me away. Fiachra and Conn both looked at me nervously, their wings tight against their sides as if it would anchor them there. Father nodded slowly, as if knowing what was happening. Had it been three-hundred years already? Three-hundred years since we had been children? Three-hundred years since Aoife had been revealed and punished by King Bodb? The years had passed by so quickly that it was almost frightening. But we were bound, which gave us no choice but to leave. I refused to leave until I said farewell to Father. I paddled slowly to him, my movements nearly lifting me from the surface of the water. Eventually I reached the shore where Father was waiting, the spot where he had spent with us every hour of every day and sometimes through the night.

"We must take our leave, Father," I said softly. "Three-hundred years have passed far too quickly to my liking. I would stay longer if I could, and I am sure it is the same with Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn." When I stopped, I had noticed that Father's weathered face bore more wrinkles than three-hundred years ago and his red hair was streaked with gray. He had aged many years despite his immortality. It stung my heart to see him this way, surely aged by the sorrow that had weighed on his heart and still did.

"I know," Father said, his eyes shining with tears. "I love you all very dearly, and I hope to see you again. In the meantime, farewell and may the Denaan shine upon you."

"Farewell," I whispered, my tearless eyes stinging with grief. With that, I turned to my brothers and stared them each in the eye. They looked at me, knowing, just as sorry to leave as I was.

I lifted off the surface before fully unfurling my wings, giving myself completely to the curse. My brothers soon followed me, calling farewells to our father. He watched us silently as we left, and was soon lost to the horizon.

The countryside slowly shrunk as we rose in the bright, blue sky and soon looked almost like the maps in Father's room that I had seen before I was a swan. We passed by the White Fort, and by King Bodb Dearg's castle, and by huts we had not known even existed. We flew with the gulls, and with the geese, and the sparrows and ducks. I marveled at how free they were in the sky and imagined that I would have felt the same way but for the tug of Sruth na Maoile, a sea known for its raging winds and towering waves.

Not much time was spent flying to Sruth na Maoile. Though it was far from Lake Dairbhreach, we had reached the sea by nightfall. White waves crashed against treacherous cliffs. The sea was restless this night, as it would be many nights, and my heart sunk to my stomach at the sight. I glanced briefly at my brothers and hoped that we would survive three-hundred years in Sruth na Maoile.

We flew around, looking for a place to land, buffeted by the winds. When we would try to land on the cliffs, our wings would grow heavy and we would sink dangerously towards the sharp rocks waiting below. When we flapped away from the cliffs, towards the sea we would rise again. I knew that we could not fly for three-hundred years straight around Sruth na Maoile, and despair grabbed at me at the thought of resting on the dangerous waves. Already my wings were tired and heavy—we needed to find a place to stop soon.

Finally I saw a large rock jutting out of the sea, the top being washed occasionally by the sea-water but not as violently as the rest of the sea was treating the other rocks.

"There!" I shouted above the gale towards my brothers. I dove to the rock and landed gently. Just as I landed, a wave washed over the rock, catching me off-balance and nearly throwing me to the sea below. I caught myself quickly, and set my webbed feet. As the water passed, cold wind pierced through my feathers and flesh, chilling me so thoroughly I thought I would never be warm again.

My brothers landed, one by one, and walked to me, shaking their feathers as if trying to shake the cold wind off of them.

"Come!" I called to them, carefully drawing myself up to full height and unfurling my wings partially. They obeyed, and I covered Fiachra with my right wing, Conn with my left wing, and Aodh with my breast as I had every night for three-hundred years.

Together we would weather this tragedy, keep each other company, and provide each other with shelter.

Dark clouds covered the sky, making the night more forbidding. The waves were fiercer than ever, slamming against the cliffs as if angry with them, as if they were attacking the rocks that barred them from the mainland. The restless wind began stirring up, starting to whistle as it rushed between the crags in the rock. My feathers were nearly standing on edge and each time I touched my brothers a small, stinging shock would pass between us. A storm was brewing, and it would be a terrible one. Dread struck my heart as I watched the waves boldly striking the rock higher than the waves before it. This storm would likely scatter us into the sea.

"This coming storm will be worse than the others," I told my brothers as calmly as I could, raising my voice so it could be heard over the wind. "The waves will overtake this rock and likely separate us from each other. Let us find a place to meet."

"Carraig na Ron," Aodh said. "The Rock of the Seals."

My eyes widened. In the cold and grief that I felt, I had completely forgotten about that rock which I had seen before on my father's map. Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn had all seen it with me, when Father had told us how to get there from the shores of Maoil.

"Carraig na Ron is where we shall meet, then," I confirmed. "In the meantime we shall keep each other company while we wait for the storm to come. We will need it to give us hope."

Soon, the waves washed over the rock more and more often, with such fierceness that made the waves crashing against the cliffs seem like childish splashes. Lightning streaked in the dark sky, eventually followed by giant booms that rumbled loud enough to hurt my ears. Fiachra and Conn huddled under my right and left wings while Aodh rested against my breast to keep warm.

It seemed like forever before the monstrous wave rose before us, its gaping mouth dwarfing us altogether, casting a shadow that made the dark night seem much brighter than it had before. I heard a whimper from Fiachra and Conn. The wave was slowly approaching us, as if savoring our fear. I could see the water being sucked up to make the wave grow even larger.

Finally it hit our rock like a wall, sweeping us into the ocean. My body tingled with pain and coldness. I could feel my brothers being buffeted, torn from my feeble embrace. Before I could even swim after them, the tide pushed me farther from my brothers, tangling myself in my wings. They quickly disappeared from my view into the darkness. After realizing that I couldn't go after them, I began fighting to make my way towards Carraig na Ron.

As my head broke the surface of the water, I took a deep breath and dove under the water again. I made myself as stretched out as possible, separating the water's resistance with my beak, paddling powerfully with my flippers. When I needed air I would swim up and contain as much breath as I possibly could and then dive down again.

I grew tired long before I reached the Rock of the Seals, but I pushed on. Time slowed itself so that I soon began wondering why I still had a beak and wings and flippers and why I was not in my shape again. Surely I had reached the end of the curse!

My heart felt lighter as, when I came up for air, I spotted Carraig na Ron, standing triumphant among the waves that sought to overwhelm it, its head dry. Fatigue quickly left me and I dove under the water again, pushing harder than I had, desperately trying to reach shelter. I hoped that my brothers had reached it before I did.

Climbing up to the top of the rock was difficult, yet it was the only thing I could do, for the screeching winds would have surely swept me across its own path. More than once had I fallen back into the water during the slow climb, but when I finally reached it, relief, fear, and despair all flooded into me. My brothers were nowhere to be seen.

All I could do was wait, but my fear and loneliness were overwhelming, threatening to drive me insane. I always had a vivid imagination, but at this moment I wished I had no imagination at all, for it plagued me with images of my brothers being gruesomely killed or maimed by the monsters of the sea or by sharp, jagged rocks or by the violent wind. At first I passed them off as folly, but, as they became more and more vivid, I became more and more afraid. I needed something to distract me, to keep me from concentrating on something that would only bring me grief and despair.

Before I could realize it, I opened my beak and began to sing. All of my worries and pain flooded through my throat and fled from my beak, forming a keening song that was carried on the wind, floated on the waves, and rested on the rock ever so delicately. I let myself be carried along with my song, my body remaining anchored to the rock but my mind dancing, drifting, and wandering amongst the elements.

The waters calmed and the wind died as the sky turned pink. The sun was a welcome sight peeking over the horizon. It had seemed to take forever for the storm to quell, but once it did, it was a mere memory; a thing of the past. I sang for the sun now, my song transforming as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

A speck appeared on the horizon, too small to be discerned at first, but slowly growing larger and larger until I could see that it was a swan. My heart rose and began to pound in my chest, and I stopped singing to call out to the swan.

"Fee!" I heard in response. That swan was Conn. I could see him clearly now, and his feathers were drenched. I knew he must have been freezing. I approached the edge of the rock and jumped off, spreading my wings to glide to my brother. As I landed on the water, Conn rushed towards me and I caught him under my wing, pulling him close to me in a swanlike parody of a hug.

"Have you seen Fiachra?" Conn asked.

"Fee! Conn!" another familiar voice called out before I could respond to my brother. Both Conn and I turned our heads to see who called us, and found another swan quickly approaching us. I knew this swan to be Fiachra.

Conn ducked away from my wing to race towards Fiachra. They collided together in a flurry of feathers and relieved laughter. Then, together, the twins swam to me, chattering excitedly. I was relieved as well to see that neither of them was hurt and that the most they suffered was the cold ocean water.

But Aodh did not arrive, even as Fiachra, Conn, and I finished the long climb up Carraig na Ron. The twins noticed this as well.

"Where is Aodh?" Fiachra asked as I scanned the horizon.

"I do not know," I replied. "But he will come soon." These words escaped my beak before I could think twice, but Fiachra seemed reassured by them. I was surprised to find that I, too, was reassured.

Fiachra said no more after that, and remained by my side, looking on the horizon as well. Conn soon joined us without a word. We sat in silence for a long time, scanning the horizon. No gruesome deaths sprung in my mind this time; only my words echoed in my head. _He will come soon._ The more those words were repeated, the more they sounded like a prophecy. I only hoped that I was right.

"Fee!" Conn exclaimed. I turned to him and found his wing outstretched, pointing out to the water. I followed his feathers with my eyes and twisted my neck so I could see better.

On the horizon was a white speck.


	9. Chapter Nine

Anticipation gathered in my throat, filling me with hope and relief all at once. The white spot grew bigger as the moments ticked by. Silence fell so quickly that even the whisper of water against the rock could not hide that my brothers and I had all held our breath.

Puzzlingly, not only did the spot grow bigger, but wider. Then I realized the large spot was a group of individual spots. It did not take long to see that a flock of seagulls had flown over the horizon. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach like a bad meal as I released my hope and relief all in one long breath. I heard my brothers do the same, but none of us dared take our eyes off the horizon. The seagulls swooped around and settled on the water, contentedly drifting around and grabbing at tidbits of food.

It seemed like hours before Fiachra and Conn stopped searching for their brother and waddled off, talking in low voices to each other. I did not abandon my watch because, to me, doing so would force me to admit to myself that I would never see my beloved brother again. I was not ready to do that, nor would I be.

"Och! Over here!" cried a faint voice that both startled and heartened me. I looked around quickly for the source of the voice, my brothers doing the same. Finally, all of us spotted a welcome sight; a swan floating across the ocean, closing the gap that lay between us and him. Surprisingly, I noticed that he was dry. His white feathers gleamed from the sun. Aodh still seemed a Tuatha De Denaan despite his swan body.

Utter happiness and relief filled me to the brim of my being, stifling any words that I would have wanted to say. Instead, my voice escaped from my throat in a laugh. I heard Fiachra call out Aodh's name and saw Conn flap his wings excitedly. Aodh spread his wings and rose above the water to fly onto the rock. When he landed, he was met by two white blurs who piled on him in a flurry of feathers and exclamations. I rose and made my way towards the pile. Were I in my normal form, I would have smiled a smile to rival that of the happiest man in the world. Aodh laughed as well, gently pushing Fiachra and Conn off of him.

"It's really you! You are not a seagull!" Conn observed.

"Of course not! Why would I be?" Aodh responded. At that prompting, both Fiachra and Conn began babbling and tripping over their words in an attempt to explain to Aodh what had happened. I chuckled and stood by, perfectly content to watch my brothers interact.

They talked long after night fell and would have continued until the morning if I had not urged them to sleep and told them they could talk later in the morning. Fiachra and Conn mumbled complaints under their breath but quickly fell asleep under my wings. Silence ensued when Aodh made his way towards me, but it said much more than any words could have. After Aodh lay comfortably under my breast, I welcomed the warm embrace of sleep. It would be the deepest slumber I had for years to come.

Fiachra cried out in pain as the sand and salt water reached his vulnerable feet. Indeed, it stung my own with a fiery vengeance that opposed the cold which had caused our wounds. There was no avoiding the salt water or the sand of the shore. At least we had found somewhere remotely dry and unfrozen to stay instead of Carraig na Ron during the day. But at night was when our curse drove us back into the sea.

I rose and gingerly walked to my ailing brothers, each step bursting with new pain that lingered even as I reached my brothers. Their feet were a gruesome sight, for they were without skin as mine were. The blood had long been washed away by the ocean, replaced by an oozing clear liquid and puss. The tips of their wing feathers, as well, had been torn off. Without a doubt, the skin of our feet and our feathers of our wings were still frozen to the rock that we had left behind.

It was the coldest winter the Sruth na Maoile had ever experienced in all of the winters we had been there. I longed for the warmer days that were common after Aodh had returned. At least then our curse had not seemed so. But long had we grown used to the misery that we forgot the heaviness of our burden and stopped complaining. Only now, when our feet were skinless and infected did my brothers begin cursing Aoife again.

"Why did she do this to us?" Conn moaned.

"We did not slight her!" Fiachra added.

Aodh remained silent, clearly too caught up in trying to cope with the pain to notice our brothers' complaints.

"Fiachra, Conn, stop at once," I chided, determining that their words would only serve to make them more miserable. They fell silent immediately. I softened my voice. "It is true that we did not do anything wrong to Aoife, but nothing can change our curse. Remember that problems reach the worst that they can get before they get better. Our fortune will change for the good soon, so we can safely accept every blow given to us. Have heart, my brothers, for the curse will end, and with its disappearance, so will our suffering." Aodh nodded gently as I placed my wings over the twins. "In the meantime, we may be in pain, but we are all in pain together and that is far better than being alone." While my words did not console my brothers, they were silent, perhaps realizing that I spoke the undeniable truth. I had chosen my words carefully because I did not want to lie to them and shield them from the harshness of our plight, but I did want to give them strength—empower them—so they could endure the rest of the curse. That was far more lasting than nurturing them like one would nurture a babe.

"Fionnuala…" Aodh began. "You have grown beyond your years."

"We all have," I said softly. "How could we not?"

Aodh's response did not come until a few moments of silence, of thoughts.

"For a long time I had thought only of our condition and cursed Aoife and Father, becoming angry. Even after Father had opened my eyes to my selfishness, I could only dwell upon the unfairness of it all." My brother looked to the ground. "Of course, that has all changed, but I could not help but notice that, despite all of the hardships we have and will endure, you have only been concerned with our well-being and have taken the burden of the curse on your shoulders with acceptance and dignity."

These words shocked me. Did I truly seem this way? All my thoughts and feelings had convinced me otherwise.

"I do not feel as if I had," I replied honestly, echoing my current thoughts. "You seem to have been braving this far better than I have."

"But I do not think I could have pulled myself out of my despondency to take care of my brothers as well as you have." Aodh looked away, ashamed of this admission.

"You were courageous enough to admit your flaws to yourself," I said. Aodh looked at me again. "You are certainly strong enough to do what I have done. What is important, though, is that you truly believe this. Your flaws are not going to leave, but do not dictate your strengths, nor do they dictate how you live your life. You must accept them as a part of yourself and do the best you can to learn from them. Once you do that, you can accomplish quite a bit."

Another long pause ensued, Aodh's eyes seeming to look far away as he thought. It wasn't until then had I noticed that Fiachra and Conn had been listening and had remained patiently silent. They, too, had aged beyond their childhood, though it was hard to believe it. By now, they certainly would have been fully grown men, likely with wives and children of their own, and their children would likely have had children and so on. They would not have aged very much as adults, for that was the nature of the Tuatha de Denaan. The same situation would have been for Aodh, of course, but imagining the two mischievous children I had known as adults was far more difficult. As I pictured this, the nagging thought of the unfairness of Aoife's deeds stung me. Of course it was unfair, but it was also unfair to think this in the midst of family.

"Come, let us sing," I suggested. "It will help us find our way." We had not sung for many nights, and I found myself longing to release all of my grief through the song.

I began, my voice clear as a woman's voice should be, and my brothers soon joined in, one-by-one. Our melody carried our thoughts on the wind to be taken away. As they disappeared, we allowed ourselves to dance and rest on the notes that slowly faded.

We sang until night fell, when we felt the magical tug urging us back into the Maoil.

Our skin and feathers had long since grown back when I felt the familiar pull on my will. I turned to my brothers, who felt it too, and gave them each a warm look that would have been accompanied by a smile. We had endured much through the years, heartened by the appearance of the two sons of Bodb Dearg.

They had ridden on their pure white horses with others, who turned out to be the Riders of the Sidhe, to Sruth na Maoile where we had spotted them and hailed them.

"Greetings to the Tuatha de Denaan!" I had called out to them. "Who might you be?"

The two men at the front of the troop had halted and looked around for the source of the greeting, finally deciding to ride towards us. When they got close enough, I was able to see their blonde hair and their strong faces, looking so familiar though I had never seen these men before.

"I am Aodh Aithfhiosach, of the quick wits, son of King Bodb Dearg," replied the one with a blonde beard and intense dark eyes. My heart ached as I heard the King of the Tuatha de Denaan's name, for I had missed the presence of the Tuatha de Denaan so.

"And I Fergus Fithchiollach, of the chess, also son of King Bodb Dearg," chimed in the one with no beard and laughing blue eyes. "Might you be the Children of Lir?"

"Yes," Aodh responded. "What news do you bring us?"

"We are sore for words of our people," said Fiachra.

"And of our father," added Conn.

"All are well," Aodh Aithfhiosach reported. "Currently, everyone feasts in your father's halls, for it is the Feast of Ages. The celebration is joyful, but it is somewhat subdued, for everyone is wondering what has become of you."

"I am glad that all are having a good feast," I stated. "And I regret that we cannot join them. Things have not been easy here." I hesitated, because I did not want to ruin Father's feast, but I knew that he had to be told the truth. "The seas are not gentle and I think we all long for a good meal and a bed to sleep in." Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn nodded in unison.

"At least you are all together and alive," Fergus Fithchiollach comforted, dropping his formal tone. "You may yet receive help in the end of your curse."

We had conversed some more and the troop of riders left at nightfall to bring the news to our father and theirs. This had brought a resurgence hope to us, for some inconceivable reason. None of us had searched for the source of this hope, for it was enough. We had flown to Innus Domnann and spent many a cold night in that cave, sometimes frozen up to our wings so we could not move. Those years passed slowly, but passed all the same.

I spread my wings and began to fly, my brothers soon following. Our curse was almost over, and, as it was meant, would end in Inus Gluaire.


	10. Chapter Ten

"Together, my brothers and I managed to resist the curse enough to go back to our father's dwelling. What we saw there weighed our souls down with such anguish that the curse loosened its hold long enough for us to spend the night. For what we saw was green hills and meadows, and thickets of nettles. There was no house anymore, no Tuatha de Denaan to greet us. It was then we knew that our kind were truly dead. We spent the night with our song, and left the next morning. I dare not dwell upon it long, for it still saddens my brothers and me so.

"We went to the Inus Gluaire, and settled on Loch na-n Ean, the lake before you now. During the day we would go find food in the far reaches of the country: Inis Geadh, Accuill, and all the western islands of Connacht. Each night, the curse compelled us to come back to this Lake of the Birds. Every night we sang for the loss of the Tuatha de Denaan, and for the loss of our friends and servants, but mostly for the loss of Father.

"The lake did not used to have so many birds here as it does now. Our song attracted them, and, as you may know, it was for the many birds that flocked here because of our voices that the lake was named.

"But we have lived thus since you have arrived."

As the swan before Aibric—Fionnuala, as the man had come to know her—finished her haunting tale, he wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Any other day, he would have admonished himself for sobbing like a child, but after hearing this tragedy, he was sure no one could help but cry. Aibric vaguely remembered the various emotions that he had experienced; surprise, anger, and grief the chief among them.

"Do not cry for us, Aibric," a smaller swan, Fiachra—or Conn, Aibric could not quite remember which—said as he glided across the water closer to the shore where the blonde-haired man stood. "We have had quite enough of that throughout our near-nine-hundred years of journey. Our life is not so bad. It is simply easier to speak of the things that dampen a mood than things that lighten one."

"Indeed," Aibric agreed, laughing weakly, his bass-timbred voice echoing through the lake. He knew that this swan was right, but sorrow was not so easily thrown off. To assure Fiachra—yes, Fiachra, that sounded about right—he patted that twin on the head amiably with a meaty hand.

Fionnuala gave a light laugh in response, musical and ethereal, the voice of the Sidhe as Aoife had bestowed. Aibric wondered what her voice had sounded like when she was in her natural form.

"Fiachra is right," stated she. "I did not mean to depress you. We did have good times, (for how else can one pass away the centuries?). Some songs we had sung were woven with joy and gratefulness. Our tale may have been a tragedy, but we are not melancholy beings."

"It is late in the night," observed a bigger swan with a deeper voice. "Come, rest with us and we shall sing for you."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Aodh," Aibric said. "I only wish that I could repay your kindness."

"No need. It has been a long time since we had the audience of one who could speak to us," Fionnuala assured.

With that said, Aibric turned his attention to Conn, who seemed to be looking far away. "You have not said much, Conn. Does something trouble you?"

Interrupted from his train of thought, the swan took a little while to answer. The man waited as Conn processed the question.

"No, I am fine," responded Conn. "There are a lot of memories that this retelling of our tale has brought me." After a pause, the swan continued. "You wouldn't happen to have an apple, would you? It has been a long time since I have had them or even thought of them and I wonder if they are as sweet as they were in Sidhe Fionnachaidh."

"I will do my best to find you one," Aibric promised. There was a subtle change in Conn's features that Aibric identified as a pleased expression; at least as far as a swan face could manage.

"Later," insisted Aodh. "I am getting tired and so is everyone else, I am sure."

It was only until silence fell did the big man feel his fatigue. He laid down on his back, pillowing his head with his hands. Black encircled the night sky full of winking stars and the foliage framing it as his eyelids drooped. The mysterious song of the Sidhe slowly began, with all the swans singing softly. The music funneled through his ears into his body and filled his being with peace. This profound sense of stillness and quiet not at all unpleasant encompassed Aibric, caused him to embrace his fatigue whole-heartedly. The big man's eyes closed and soon his chest rose up and down in harmony of the regular breathing of sleep.

The children of Lir were not long in joining him, Fiachra under her left wing, Conn under her right, and Aodh under her breast.

Aibric found himself awake, only just realizing that he had been asleep. His slumber was of the dreamless kind, and the big man felt that it was only a few moments since it was night time. But now, the sky—the first thing he saw as he woke—was mixed with purple, green, blue, red, orange, and yellow of sunrise. Aibric shifted and turned to the lake. The children of Lir were gone, likely to find food to break their nightly fast. Suddenly the big man remembered his favor to Conn and started off in search of an apple. After walking by several trees, Aibric found that he would not mind an apple either.

It took a few hours before the big man found an apple tree, and one more to climb it in order to get fruit from its boughs. Soon he held one red, juicy apple in each hand and began taking a direct route back to the lake, munching on one apple along the way.

After another two hours had passed, Aibric caught sight of the lake and the four white forms gliding across it. He made his way towards the shore and presented the remaining apple to the bird he thought was Conn. The big man was filled with pleasure as he noticed the subtle change in Conn's face again.

"I fear I will not be able to eat the apple with a beak like mine," Conn began softly. "But the sight of it helps me remember what apples taste like and that alone cheers me quite a bit."

"I can help with that," Aibric insisted. He dug his meaty fingers into the apple, juice welling around them, and pulled off a small chunk, revealing white innards that leaked with sweet-smelling liquid. He held his palm out flat with the piece of apple in his hand which Conn gingerly picked up with his beak and held for a moment, letting the juice leak onto his tongue.

After he swallowed in the jerky manner that birds do, Conn made a ponderous, pleased, noise that Aibric identified as 'Mmmm,' and spoke.

"Delicious. Thank you, Aibric. You have done me a great favor."

Fiachra glided closer to the big man.

"May I have a piece?" he asked.

"Of course," Aibric replied, tearing off another chunk of apple.

Fionnuala and Aodh both requested a piece after their brothers, and Aibric found himself giving all four swans small pieces of apple until he had reached the core where the bitter seeds rested. The big man also found that he enjoyed feeding these swans, not for the task itself but for the expressions that they displayed that pleased him so.

"I will plant the seeds so that it will not take so long to retrieve another apple should you want more," Aibric said.

"A good idea," commented Conn. "If it is not too much trouble."

"If it was, I wouldn't have suggested it," Aibric responded. "Besides, I have found a way to repay you. An apple for your song."

Fionnuala nodded to herself in what seemed a sage-like manner, at least as sagely as a swan could manage without looking comical.

"Tell us, Aibric," Aodh began, his tone eager. "What of the world outside?"

"There is too much to tell, and I know very little for I am not nine-hundred years of age nor close to it," the big man said obligingly. "But one of the biggest things I do know is of this new religion known as Christianity being spread across Ireland. I myself do not care about such things, but it is the least news I can offer you."

"A new what?" For the first time, Fionnuala seemed confused. Her brothers echoed her confusion.

"Religion," Aibric repeated. "It's what men put their faith in—what they call the worship of their gods."

"You mean there are new _gods_?" Aodh asked incredulously. "How can this be?"

"I honestly do not know," the big man said, shrugging his shoulders. "There is much I do not know about this religion, but what I do know is that men worship one god who they say made all and rules all. They also believe in a man as their savior, the son of this God, after whom the religion was named. I forget what he is called."

The four swans remained uncomfortably silent, trying to process that which they did not understand. Though they all were wise, they had little knowledge of the ways of men.

"Leave us for now," Fionnuala urged gently. The big man guiltily obeyed, quickly passing through the trees and away from Loch na-n Ean, feeling slightly embarrassed at how easily he had passed off what was obviously a big deal to the children of Lir.

Aibric could not blame them for sending him away because the life they had lived was the experience of what most men now called 'legends' and 'myths.' It was more than a simple religion to these children of Lir, and to have heard him speaking of what they had known for years being gone must have affected them much like seeing their childhood home no more than brambles and hills. Aibric had to amend this somehow and realized that he had not yet planted the apple seeds.

The big man resolved to return the next day and plant the apple seeds near Loch na-n Ean.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Nearly a decade had passed since Aibric had returned and planted the apple tree. Both he and the children of Lir had watched it spring from the ground by the lake and spread its limbs, absorbing precious sunlight to grow strong. Flowers had bloomed and grown swelling apples, which the four swans ate after their morning meal.

Fionnuala could not help but notice through the passing years that the number of white hairs speckled in Aibric's hair and beard had grown. Yet she and her brothers remained unchanged. The eldest swan felt as if time had trapped her and her brothers in some sort of net for the entire span of their curse. It was somewhat saddening to think that all of them would outlive yet another loved one, but Fionnuala knew that it did no good to dwell on such thoughts, especially while Aibric yet lived.

The sky darkened as the sun went down and the four swans began to sing the song that would deliver their friend into a sweet sleep. Just as Aibric was about to accept the embrace of dreams, a deep, almost sorrowful bell tolled. It was faint, but pierced through the swans' vocalizations as if it delivered an urgent message.

"What is that?" asked Conn as he looked about him.

Fionnuala felt her heart pounding faster and faster each time the bell tolled. She recognized this bell. But from where? The source rested at the very back of her mind, and she groped desperately for it, hoping that different lines of thought would take her to it. _Bell… Aoife… White Fort… Dream!_

"Sounds like a bell," Aibric replied. "But I have never heard such a one before."

"It is _the_ bell," Fionnuala found herself saying. "The bell I heard in my dreams. I know not what it signifies."

"It must be important, then," Aodh said. His heart beat faster as well as a fleeting yet hopeful thought fluttered through his mind. "Might it indicate the end of our curse?"

Fiachra squawked happily and ruffled his feathers. "If it does, let us sing!" He began singing a bawdy drinking song he had heard on his tenth birthday, his voice carrying across the forest. A grin broke on Aibric's face and he joined in, having recognized the old piece. Aodh rolled his eyes at the two, but then Conn began vocalizing a lilting harmony that seemed to add a sense of elegance to the lewd song. The remaining swans that were not singing traded amused glances and helped Conn with the harmony.

They sung well into the night, but one-by-one they grew too tired to continue until Aibric had left for his home and Fiachra finally stopped and submitted to his twin brother's urgings to go to sleep.

The next morning, the swans awoke to find an old, stooped man emerging noisily from the trees, his silvery hair and beard tangled with leaves and twigs. The old man straightened, planted his walking stick, and looked towards the swans. Fionnuala nearly thought him to be one of the druids of old, but the cross around his neck told her otherwise. He walked towards the swans and stopped at the edge of the lake.

"God Almighty, please let this be them," he muttered, holding the cross in one hand. "I do not wish to attempt to talk to swans that do not respond."

Fiachra looked at the old man curiously as his sister glided towards the shore.

"Are you the children of Lir?" asked he.

"Indeed, we are," replied Fionnuala. "Why do you wish to know?"

The old man paused to look up at the sky and cross himself. "Thank you, God!" He then turned to Fionnuala, and said, "I am Mochaomhog, and I am here because the Lord has sent me to you. I would ask you to join me just this one day for Mass. My church is nearby; I can lead you to it."

Fionnuala turned to her brothers. No words were spoken between them, only doubtful glances exchanged. They all had longed to hear more than Aibric could tell them about Mass and church and God. The eldest then turned back to the old man and put one webbed foot ashore and then began walking to him. Her brothers followed shortly afterwards, and, once they all flocked around Mochaomhog. He led them a short way through the woods, holding a pleasant conversation with them, to a makeshift church with a great bell resting atop it. The old man urged them to enter and they did.

It was not much compared to the great castles of old that the children were used to. A few benches sat across from each other, all facing a large, carved image of a gaunt man nailed to a wooden cross, a crown of thorns resting upon his head.

Despite the patched-up nature it had, the four swans looked around in awe. Never had they seen a church or the crucifix before.

"The Lord saw it fit that I build a church in His honor," Mochaomhog remarked humbly, walking towards the crucifix. "I would give you the details, but I must start Mass." He paused before saying, "It would honor me if you could stand next to me while I recite the Lord's prayers rather than sit in the pews."

Fionnuala looked to her brothers and then nodded, though she was unsure how this would honor the old man, and the meaning of the word 'pews.' Her brothers joined her as she settled by Mochaomhog's side.

As the old man prayed, the children listened carefully to his words, discerning a little more about the man named Jesus Christ and his teachings. His raspy voice soothed the children as he intoned the psalms, and Fionnuala felt her heart rise as if a burden had nearly been lifted.

After a while, Mochaomhog finished his prayers and led the children back to the Lake of the Birds where Aibric met up with them later that afternoon. They told him about the old man, the church, and Mass. Each of the swans wished to attend this Mass again, for they had many unanswered questions that they wished to ask the old man. Aibric decided to go with them next time, to learn more about the old man himself.

Several weeks had passed, and Aibric and the children learned more about the old man who lived alone in his church, and, from him, learned more about the new God and Jesus Christ. Mochaomhog had given the swans a silver chain to represent their bond, in thanks for their continued visitation.

One day, during Mass, an armed man entered the church with a squadron of guards carrying four cages.

"Lay aside your weapons!" cried Mochaomhog. "Do not bring them into a house of God!"

"I will be here for but a moment," replied the armed man. "My wife, the queen Deoch, desires the children of Lir to come live in the castle and sing in her court."

"She shall not get them, _your majesty_!" growled Aibric, rising from his kneeling position, standing in the path of the king, and angrily emphasizing the armed man's title. The thought of the four swans in the cages that the guards bore made waves of anger roil within the big man's gut.

"Put away your weapons!" cried the old man again.

The king drew his sword and pointed it at Aibric and his guards quickly rushed to the big man and Mochaomhog, holding their arms to their sides and pulling them away from the aisle. Aodh squawked angrily and began flapping his wings.

Fionnuala could not help but wonder where she had heard the name 'Deoch' before. She suddenly remembered Aibric had told them that this king was Lairgren of the North, and his wife was the daughter of Finghin of the South. Events suddenly began to slow as she saw her brother swooping towards the king and the king holding batting him away with a gauntleted fist. Fiachra and Conn followed their older brother's example, but were, driven off in much the same manner.

Finally, Lairgren rushed towards Fionnuala. The eldest of the swans merely looked on, feeling numb to the events unfolding before her. His metal-encased hand reached for Fionnuala and clamped down on her neck, the cold grip of metal sending shudders up her spine which grew and grew. She felt something tear along her back from her tail to her head, and cold, fresh air hit her wet skin as if for the first time in a long time. The king fell back with a hollow swan skin as Fionnuala rose and stretched centuries-old cramps in her arms and legs. She looked around her, seeing her brothers emerging from their skins. But something was horribly wrong. Each of them had gaunt features and weathered and wrinkled skin.

Aodh was the first to look up, and his eyes widened as he beheld a wizened old woman with stringy white hair and his sister's eyes that still seemed too old for the face they were in. He then looked to his brothers and found that they, too, were of ancient form. His frail heart pounded harder as he realized what must have happened, and he tentatively looked at his own hands. They were not as thick as they were before he was a swan, and wrinkles that did not exist before were in abundance. He suddenly felt weak, and nearly fainted. Aodh grabbed the edge of one pew just as his younger brothers started to realize their state.

Aibric watched this happen with growing amazement and horror. He saw the king throw down the swan skin in panic as if it were a cursed thing and then turn tail and order his guards to follow him. They released the big man and the old priest, quickly forgetting about them in their haste to leave. Aibric did not care about them anymore. He rushed to Fionnuala's wrinkled, collapsing form just as Mochaomhog dashed for Aodh, Fiachra and Conn.

"Our time on this world is nearly done," said Fionnuala calmly, her voice steady, as the big man delicately caught her. She seemed so light, almost insubstantial to Aibric. "I have but one request for you, dear friend. When you bury us, please place Fiachra to my left, Conn to my right, and Aodh before me."

"They must be baptized before it is too late!" cried the old priest. "Please help me bring the brothers before the crucifix!"

Aibric looked to Mochaomhog and Fionnuala, and gently rested the ancient woman against the wall below the crucifix. He rushed to help the priest lift up Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn and carried them next to their sister. Mochaomhog rushed to grab the holy water resting by the door and murmured another, quick blessing to ensure its holiness. He brought the water to the children of Lir and recited prayers for their passing while dripping the water on their heads.

When this was done, Fionnuala, Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn all looked to each other one last time. The ancient woman smiled at them warmly, and they responded in kind.

The big man saw the light of life fade from their eyes as their lids closed in a final, well-deserved sleep. Sorrow dragged his heart down to his stomach, and tears trickled down his face. The old priest's last words of prayer were choked with sadness. The two men, the big and the stooped, sat crying, mourning the passing of their dear friends.

Finally, Aibric managed to relay Fionnuala's last wish to Mochaomhog. He nodded silently and walked outside and began digging with his bare hands. The big man soon joined him.

They worked long into the night and nearly after dawn before the grave was finished. The two men then brought the four children of Lir into their graves, placing Fiachra at Fionnuala's left, Conn at her right, and Aodh before her, his closed eyes facing hers forevermore. They worked together to fill the grave and placed the carved crucifix from inside the church at the head. Aibric inscribed the four children's names into the top of the cross. When the grave was finished, the two men looked at their work, the tears once again rolling down their cheeks.

Both Aibric and Mochaomhog visited the grave every year afterwards on that very day, remembering the songs and tales they traded with their friends.

_Mourn not for these Children of Lir, for they have at last found peace with their mother and father._


End file.
